George handed the pink-furred pygmy puff back over to the old man who had let it out for him to see and turned to his father, throwing his hands up in resignation and rolling his eyes. George's father was dressed in washed out business clothes and a tie, his belongings packed inside a bloated blue backpack for the day trip to London to drop George off at Platform 9 and 3/4. George, with his pockets full of precious golden Galleons earned from his position as a student writer, had a diversion to Diagon Alley planned. He was going to get himself a pet for school, something cool and expensive to elevate him above his peers in the first year.

His primary concerns were of style and ferociousness, two qualities which the noble pygmy puff were quite rich in. These priorities did not match his father's own - realistic concerns, regarding things like how George was "not able to afford it" and would have "nowhere to keep it at the house." Another glass ceiling for the muggle-borns - how were you going to explain what a pygmy puff was to someone who'd never seen anything more exotic than a Siamese cat? One meowed at him with pointed derision as he passed it by. He sped up his walk to avoid offending it with his internal monologue again. There was a small part of him that wished he could have been born a wizard. Not in the way in which he was born a wizard - but to know it all along. To be born into wizardry, and see the world as a wizard did, and not like some bright-eyed interloper.

A needle of pain alerted him that he was chewing on his lip, releasing the gnarled flesh as he passed by the cages of rats, each one preoccupied with its daily routine. Wandering in circles, having a drink of water, running in the roller wheel. It was a good life for a rat. You had everything you needed put right into your box, no hassle. George put his finger up to the cage and giggled as he felt it sniffing at him, only for it to lose interest and turn away.

"I don't know what to get," George said, but his father had already been dragged into a conversation by some witch with an exceptionally large feathered hat that disturbed the birds in their high-aloft cages. They screeched and waddled across their perches in protest. He would need a pet of some mundane variety, which ruled out pygmy puffs. He counted out his galleons on his palm, and ruled out quite a few of the more expensive options. Maybe a toad. He turned around on the spot, scanning the shop for someone he recognized, an adviser to point him in the right direction.

As Alan walked around Diagon Alley, he looked at his small note that he brought along to his shopping trip. He noted down some of the things he would have to purchase for the second half of the school year, as it was the last chance to get the variety of things he needed. Soon his eyes would focus on the written lines that he had not crossed out yet and noticed that he had missed one shop completely. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, trying to locate the Magical Menagerie and sighed in relief once he spotted it from the distance.

With a quickened pace he made his way towards the shop, Tiger running along his side, probably happy that he could stretch his legs a bit. When Tiger was younger, Alan used to go on walks with him, having him wear a small harness and he found out that Tiger liked exploring the streets and whatnot. Soon he began to train and try, if he could get him to follow him around without needing a leash and it took him a while, but soon he found it to be possible. Maybe there was a bit of Kneazle in Tiger after all, since he seemed so very intelligent. Alan would not know, he was no expert in cats and had found his cat on the streets, when he was merely a kitten; therefore he had little to no information about him just that his appearance meant he was a Bengal cat.

When he pushed open the doors to the pet store, a small bell would ring that was somehow activated by the door opening and once Alan looked up to find the source of the sound, he could see a chime of bells attached to a string, dangling in close approximate to the door. Noticing that he had been standing in the open doorway, his face reddened and he quickly made space for a mom leading her crying child out. The kid throwing a tantrum about how it was unfair that only its siblings were getting a pet. Alan shook his head quickly and watched as the door closed, once he ducked into one of the aisles, still embarrassed that he had spaced out like this.

Tiger was pacing around, sometimes circling around his feet, as he tried to look around and see whether he could find some treats to take to Hogwarts for Tiger. With his Gryffindor scarf wrapped around his neck comfortably and his hands buried in the sleeves of his red pullover that he was wearing with some black pants, he tried to walk around the store, when he caught sight of a boy that must be his age, looking around the pet aisle. Alan watched on curiously as he held a small Pygmypuff in his hands, seemingly interested to buy it; why else would he ask to inspect and hold it? But apparently the boy decided to have the employee put it back into its cage to the other pygmies.

As soon as Alan stopped paying much attention to the actual things he had to purchase now, curious what pet the other boy would choose, he would often glance over to the kid. Was he going to Hogwarts too, maybe? Based on his age it made sense, but perhaps he was going to another school further away. If he was going to Hogwarts, Alan knew that the variety of pets you could bring to the castle was not too promising; owls, cats, frog and rats... well and pygmies but the unknown boy already had decided against those.

George didn't try to catch his father's attention again - him and the witch were talking in a rushed whisper, and his father had taken on a severe look that he always had on when the adults are talking. It didn't matter. He'd only wanted to complain, anyway. Not that his father would ever understand - he was a muggle. Even though he could follow him into Diagon Alley, he didn't understand how unfair it was to George to have to leave places like this. He felt like a wizard here. At home, all the magic was gone, replaced by radio buzz and his mother's remedial maths classes. The ring of a bell and the sudden entrance of a red-headed boy and his pet cat interrupted George's sulking session. A spry bengal, with a similar pattern to one of the little ones still in the cages for sale, ran circles around the mysterious new shopper.

Alan's occasional glance was easy for George to notice, as he was unabashedly staring at Alan from across the aisle. It was in part because of his cat, and his hair, and the fact that he was around George's age. Most likely, he was another student at Hogwarts if he was parading around Diagon Alley at this time of year. Suddenly George felt self-conscious and turned his back to his father, trying to pretend as if he, too, was in the shop unsupervised. It was then, doing his half-turn and sliding his hands in his pockets in an attempt to look cooler, that he noticed it. The piece of evidence he needed to start his approach. A Gryffindor scarf!

He lifted his arm, his pointer finger finding the boy's neck like a compass finds north. There was no time wasted on pleasantries before George was upon him with an interrogation. "You're a Gryffindor! How old are you? Is it your second year? I'm only in my first," he announced, before Alan could've had a chance to answer either of the other questions. Then came the introductions, delivered without any delay or a pause for breath. "I'm George Henry. What's your kitty's name? And yours, uh, also."

His eyes lifted up from the floor, where he had been observing Tiger making his rounds and examining the various treats available for purchase by his master. No doubt, the cat would quickly lose patience if George delayed the shopping further, so he stepped back to make room for Alan to continue browsing as they talked. "I can't get a pygmy puff. I won't be able to take it home when I'm on holiday," he laments, with a helpless shrug. "I think they might be kind of lame, anyway. Do you think I should get an owl? Or maybe a rat?"

He squat down low and reached out to offer his hand to Tiger, letting the cat choose whether or not to investigate. "What about cats?"

The boy Alan had been glancing at, began walking. But he did not just walk anywhere; no. The boy decided to walk right towards Alan! Has he been caught? Had Alan been that obvious? A light tint of red colored the cheeks of the third year, as he hoped he was wrong with his assumption. He did not want to appear weird, for shamelessly staring and eavesdropping on another person's conversations. Alan had just been curious! Was the boy gonna be mad? Alan shook his head lightly, to himself, as if to get rid off his thoughts. The other boy did not appear to be mean, so Alan assumed he had nothing to worry about.

"I- yes... I'm a Gryffindor", he mumbled, slightly surprised as he looked down at his scarf; only now realizing that this had not been a question but a confirmation of the other kid, his cheeks reddened even more, as he chuckled nervously. "Th-thirteen actually, I am in the third year... You are a first year?- ... how do you l-like the school so far?", he asked back, smiling slightly strained at the other kids, as he tried to force himself to relax a little.

"George?", he asked for confirmation, to make sure he heard it correctly, but because he had also asked for his cats name, Alan forced himself to quickly add, -your name I mean! M-my cat 's named Tiger, I'm Alan; pleasure to meet you!", he introduced himself, offering a now more relaxed smile to the kid, showing a bit of teeth. Alan was doing well, this conversation was going well and Alan had no reason to worry, right? Before his mind could run wild and cause him to fall into a even deeper hole of unrelated thoughts and topics running through his mind, he forced himself to focus on the boy before him.

"What house are you in? A-and why can't you bring a pygmy puff home? Do your parents say no? B-but they are so adorable! And they draw attention from others... Th-they are also easy to care for... s-so why?", he asked, astonished by the fact, that the other kid could bring an owl but not a pygmy. An owl would be so much more work, for sure! As the other kid reached out his hand to Tiger, the cat without much though, sniffed at the other kid's fingers curiously before pressing his head against George's palm; starved for pats and attention as it seemed, even though he clearly got more than enough from Alan alone. But the cat seemed to know no stop.

"I'm in the first year, but I'm twelve," George informed Alan. It wouldn't feel so important if he hadn't been telling Jake all about it in a letter just a little while ago. Twelve was quite young, still, but compared to his bunk mate of eleven and a half, he felt positively wizened with age. He was watching Tiger as Alan introduced himself and the little cat, scratching behind the bengal's ears and rubbing along its face. The fur was soft and smooth, the little cat turning into the attention. He laughed and turned his head to the side to mimic Tiger, eventually righting himself and standing up again when he had decided the feline had enough. "I'm in Hufflepuff, actually. George Henry, Hufflepuff!"

It was still a bit difficult to say with pride. He had wanted Gryffindor so badly, and he'd told the people on the train as much when they were on their way to Hogwarts. If he ever ran into Elsian, he'd probably die of shame - he had pegged that one for a Slytherin, and he ended up in Gryffindor instead of George. At least he'd have the chance to show off what a good Hufflepuff he was - making amends instead of smacking the smug look right off of his face. But he said it with a smile, and no derision in his tone, because after spending the first half of the year in the house he realized that it was really quite a nice place to be.

"The thing about the pygmy puffs is that if I take it home, I have to make sure nobody sees it, since I'm the only one who's a wizard in my whole village. S'far as I know, anyway..." His brow creased, his mind suddenly ensnared with the sudden suspicion that perhaps he wasn't the only one in the village. That was a thought to take forward to summer vacation. He filed it away and moved on, his curious expression passing back into a big smile. "Muggles! Can't live with them, can't live without them, huh?"

That comment prompts a curious look from George's father and the woman he's speaking to, the pair of them exchanging pointed looks. George's father shakes his head and the pair begin to speak again.

"I figure maybe I'll go for a rat if I want something small and easy to care for, but nobody really likes rats all that much. They're sort of dirty and all that," George continued, suddenly an authority on the social value of small animals. He tried to speak confidently, but it was clear he was a little sore about the loss of the pygmy puff. They were a wizard's pet. Maybe. Well, they definitely weren't muggle pets. They were also very much ugly and unnatural things, too, and they made George shiver when he handled them, a response even the dirtiest rat had failed to elicit. But it was not about comfort, nor convenience, nor logic - it was about magic! Perhaps Alan could provide some insight, as a more senior student."I think... I don't know what to think, Alan. If I can't have a pygmy puff, what should I get?"

The third year grinned slightly, when George accentuated the fact that he was already twelve. Alan got the feeling and it reminded him at his first year. His own birthday is in April, so it was quite late. For some reason it had made him feel so much younger than his classmates back then, especially since he was also shorter than most of them were. But now he was a third year and for some reason that felt like he was one of the big people, he in some situations felt nearly as smart as an adult even! In some cases even smarter, but that was rare, but he definitely knew what George meant, so he just nodded and watched him interact with Tiger.

"H-hufflepuff is a great house! Some of my friends are there... it's quite nice", Alan explained, smiling softly at the other boy. He liked the house and its values and so far the people he had met from the house all were great people! At least as far as he was able to tell.

"Muggles! Can't live with them, can't live without them, huh?" he heard the other boy say and Alan froze slightly, curiously glancing at the other boy, not sure whether he had meant it as a joke or not. However Alan decided to give this statement the benefit of the doubt and just smiled nervously; not sure how else to react to it. The Gryffindor just looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slightly, as if that was something more interesting, as he tried to gather his thoughts again. The words from the Hufflepuff had thrown him out of the loop for a bit, but he looked up again and tilted his head slightly. However he could understand why the other kid was upset. If he wanted a pygmy puff and could not have it, then it might be the reason as to why he was saying such jokes.

Either way Alan was sure there should be other ways to solve this, especially since it seemed that the boy really wanted a pygmy puff as it seemed. "What if a wizard kid was to babysit it over the holidays? I for e-example... uh... I wouldn't mind taking care of it during the t-times you can't!", he proposed nervously, as he was not sure what the other boy would think about the idea. Maybe he would get mad at him for even thinking this was a good idea, after all a pet was something personal. "I-... you could always visit it then and I can send pictures of it per owl! Or the professor for Creatures could watch over it... o-one more creature won't hurt him!", he added in a hast, staring at the Hufflepuff in worry.

"W-well cats are nice and owls are h-helpful... You wouldn't need to always run to the owlery, whenever you need to o-owl someone...", he added, just in case that his previous idea about him babysitting the pygmy puff over the breaks was not welcome.

"I was sad when I first got put into Hufflepuff," George admitted, dragging his thumb across his lower lip. For some reason, he had to pause before he continued speaking. The thought wasn't fully set into his mind. "I like it now, though. And I've got really good friends in my dorm, so I'm quite lucky. That hat is smarter than any hat ought to be. Guess that's why they say he's never wrong."

The tone he spoke in was more subdued now, too, but he wasn't sure why. It had something to do with that joke he made about Muggles, he suspected. There'd been a sudden wave of silence, the conversations around the boys hushed down to a murmur before swelling back to full. Muggles were a touchy subject for wizards. George couldn't figure out why they were such a big deal, but he made a mental note to shut up about them the next time they crossed his mind. He'd scare off Alan otherwise, and make his dad upset. Alan had mercy on him and broke the awkward pause in conversation by bringing the topic back to pets, although he took some time to examine his hands in the interim. George glanced down for a moment to do some of his own palmistry, but just like his performance in the school play, he couldn't remember any of his lines.

"I don't really want to have to leave it somewhere all the time, either. That'd just be a bit of a pain for the babysitter, and... a little boring, for me," George said, with a helpless shrug and a sympathetic smile toward Alan. It was an alright idea, but it just wasn't his style. But what was his style? The softness of a kitty-cat, like the one circling their feet right now? Or perhaps the practical side of him would win out, and he'd have a personal owl to carry his mail for him? He didn't even know who the professor for Care of Magical Creatures was. Jake would, if he wanted. But he didn't.

Having a personal owl would certainly be helpful over summer holiday when it came time to exchange owls with Jake and Jack. Besides - owls were a smart pet, for clever people. People with lots of letters to write. People with many letters to receive. Busy people who got quite a lot of things done, like his mum. She was always in the mail, sorting through letters - signed letters, stamped letters, letters with photographs and letters to council with a great many signatures on them. She always seemed to get a lot done that way. George wanted to get a lot done, too.

"I think I want an owl," he decided. With no further discussion, he began to walk the conversation over to the owl cages, hanging from perches and hooting to their hearts content in the other corner of the store. He made soft sounds with his mouth and rubbed his fingers together to make sure Tiger would follow after him, too.

There was every owl from A to Z hanging in cages, perched on little wooden pegs. George couldn't identify any of them beyond the color of their feathers. The birds eyed the pair of boys, concerned that perhaps they'd be selected, or perhaps concerned that they would not be.

"What d'you reckon?"

Alan smiled, nodding gently at the Hufflepuff. He knew exactly what the boy had meant. At first he just could not get along with the fact that he had been sorted into Gryffindor and was slightly upset about it even. He doubted that the hat had made the right decision to put him into the house he ended up in. But with time Alan got used to it and slowly started to see how the hat's decision had made sense and that he indeed felt like he belonged into his house. Though, he sometimes still had his doubts, but the Gryffindor felt something like house pride now and was happy with how things were.

When the Hufflepuff explained to him, that he would not want to always have to leave his pet with someone else, Alan understood that too. "Th-That's fair... and m-makes sense!" Alan could never leave Tiger with someone else over a longer period of time, without feeling awful. He only had the kitten for roughly a year, but he grew quite close and did not want to leave him alone for more than a few hours. Sometimes he was even thinking of him while he was in class, wondering if he was doing okay and whether he was running through the corridors to to scare some rats of other students. Or maybe he was doing patrols out on the grounds to catch some mice.

"An owl?", Alan wondered, before his face lit up and he nodded in excitement. An owl would be awesome, they were great animals, so Alan was sure that an owl would be great for George. Owls just seemed majestic, especially when they were flying or looking down at you, while perched on a branch. Otherworldly beautiful and said to be intelligent and Alan could not even fight the fact, since owls could find you everywhere and deliver a letter to you. It sometimes made Alan wonder how owls manage to do that without messing up or getting lost. However Alan assumed it must be because they were so smart. "That s-sounds awesome!", he exclaimed, then added, "We could send each other o-owls then, until we see each other again!". Alan did not own an owl, but his mother did; a pretty yet mean owl that used to peck Alan, if he had been too excited about getting a letter from it.

Alan quickly followed next to the Hufflepuff, staring at the cages with owls as he tilted his head slightly. But when he was asked for his own opinion, Alan halted for a moment and really looked at the owls. "U-uhhhh, how a-about this one?", he mumbled before stepping closer to the cages, brushing over one of the signs at the cage. 'Tawny Owl' it read and Alan glanced back at George. With a small hum, he lifted his finger from the sign, glancing at the owl, before walking past the cage, curious about what other owls they had in display. If it was up to him, he would probably try buying all of the pets, but he knew that his parents would never allow that and that he could only take one pet to Hogwarts. Also he was not quite sure, whether Tiger liked the thought of him adopting a rat and would probably think he bought it as a meal... the thought alone made Alan flinch slightly, as he continued his walk through the aisle.

He saw an arctic owl, the kind of owl his mother had, which made him smile lightly at the memory of the feathery meanie, before his eyes caught sight of two other owls. "Wh-What about one of those here? Th-They look smart, no?", Alan mentioned, not quite sure what it was the boy was looking for specifically. Alan also had no idea how to choose an owl or what he would need to pay attention to, what were George's preferences? However the two cages Alan was pointing at, one had a Indian Eagle owl in it, that was observing the whole store with a strict looking, kinda grumpy gaze, whereas the other owl's sign read 'Morepork Owl', which eyes looked wide-awake and curious, eager to deliver letters within seconds of time. Alan's gaze lingered on the latter for a while, it surely would be a great and curious companion and a pretty one on top of that!

Alan then decided to point back at the Arctic owl as well, in case the other boy might be interested in what he was going to say next, "Th-That's the kinda owl my mom has, they are very smart too, a-at least my mom's owl is, I dunno... m-maybe all owls are just kinda smart?", he wondered with a helpless shrug as he glanced at the Hufflepuff. "D-did you find a owl you like, yet?", he wondered, thinking that maybe he had found an owl that he directly connected with. Alan knew it could happen, he had heard of stories and he felt like he and Tiger had some kind of connection of them being meant to be friends!

Just as soon as Alan pointed out the Arctic owl, George had jammed his finger between the bars of the cage, wiggling it just inches away from the feathered fellow. The owl punished George swiftly, a nip on the fingertip enough to make George yank his hand away. Shocks of pain shot through his hand as he squeezed it in the other. He felt an indignant anger swelling up inside, until he looked up again and saw the placid gaze of the owl locked on him. It stared at him with a serene sense of awareness. They really were smart animals, he thought, and he had sort of earned a nip on the finger. After all, it wasn't like he'd appreciate people flinging their hands into his windows while he was trying to relax at home.

"Ow!" he mumbled, rubbing the wounded finger while the shopkeep and his father looked on in disapproval. Still, George was undeterred. "I like this one, I think. Do you think it looks smart?"

For some reason, George found his thoughts dwelling on Alan's comment on his mother's owl. He'd already been thinking of his own mother and her paper-trail crusades when Alan brought up that owl. Ostensibly a coincidence, but the observation resonated with him regardless. If the owl was clever enough for a mother, it was clever enough for him. The white pattern of its plumage radiated prestige and status. Combined with the keen look in its eye, it had to be the one.

"Oh, we could write letters! Would you want to? I don't have any Gryffindor friends. Except Elsian, but I haven't seen him since I was on the first train in for first year." He'd be getting an owl, too. Why hadn't he considered this before? An owl was a personal messenger that could carry his letters around to ANYBODY. He'd never lose track of anyone this way! He scoffed. Why hadn't muggles been using owls? It hurt his tongue to hold back the urge to blurt that out.

"I've just got to give you my address, too, for when I'm not at school. If you need one for school, it's the top bunk, sixth row, Scamander Suite, Hufflepuff Boys Dormitory," He paused a moment, lifting his hand up to suck a tiny pinprick of red away from the tip of his finger. That owl had gotten him good! "I've got to get my money from my dad - he'll know the address, too, for you."

Everything was straightened away but for one thing - the beast would need a name! He couldn't just call it 'owl'. Thinking fast, he scoured his brain for ideas, discarding creativity in the interest of time. He wanted to get the money out of his wallet as fast as he could.

"What about a name - maybe Newt?" Named after the greatest caretaker of magical beasts, and a Hufflepuff graduate. He sucked at his fingertip again, thinking it over. "Hm... but he's not a newt, is he. That's too confusing... what do you think?"

The young Hufflepuff looked down to Tiger, hoping the cat might have some useful input on the subject. A cat named Tiger... an owl named... Falcon? No, no...

When George was bitten by the owl, Alan could not help but chuckle slightly. The other kid seemed to be quite excited about getting this owl, which in return made Alan excited for the other kid. He hoped that he will be happy with his new companion and smiled at the fact, that he chose the kind of owl that his mother had as well.

"V-Very smart even!", he said with a nod, as he stepped closer to the cage to examine the feathery animal in it. Knowledgeable eyes stared back at him and seemed to know exactly what the young Gryffindor was thinking. Alan chuckled again and smiled at the beautiful animal, before focusing back on George. Alan was happy that they could free at least one creature from its cage. "I... I think the owl fits to you, c-could be a great pet!", he added, unsure whether the other boy would be worried about that. Alan wondered what exactly it was that lastly helped the Hufflepuff to decide on one of the owls, not sure what would have been the reason. But he also did not believe that it was of much importance what the reason was and more that the boy had been able to decide on his own. It was probably important to make own decisions, at least that was what he had been told growing up. That a own person makes their own decisions and will have to deal with consequences on their own. So that was why it was important to be smart and Alan wanted to be smart when he was older, but he knew that he could not be super smart like some others were, because he did not like to read books, like all the smart kids liked to do.

When he was asked, whether he wanted to write letters with the other boy, Alan nodded quickly; excited by the idea. "Y-yes, of course! I would l-love to! Writing owls sounds like lots of fun!", he joined in on the excitement, his face beaming with a lopsided grin on his face. Alan did not know the other kid the Hufflepuff had mentioned, but assumed he would be someone nice, if they were friends. What was the name again? Alan simply shook his head, deeming that information to be not of importance at that moment.

Alan nodded once he was given the address, but then smiled, "I d-don't think owls can r-read though, they just know! Isn't that amazing? They c-can find you anywhere, n-no matter where you sit in the Great Hall they bring the post to you!", Alan explained, throwing in some trivia that would never be not interesting to the young Gryffindor. Alan liked learning about creatures, especially magical ones. There was just something about them that fascinated Alan and he also was amazed how they were still hidden from Muggles, even though some were big and should easily be noticed. But Alan knew what happened when a Muggle noticed something that was weird or different to them; the young Gryffindor knew all too well. Alan slightly tensed, but instantly forced himself to relax, his jaw unclenching; Alan did not even notice he had tensed a little or why, but it had not been much of a effect or might not even be noticed at all by someone who was looking at him. But as quick as it had started, the Gryffindor relaxed again with seemingly nothing having happened. Not bothering about it and it not being much of an affect, the Gryffindor decided to focus on the other kid's questions rather than his own thoughts. "Hm... But... I dunno about the n-name! Names are something p-personal... I just looked at Tiger and k-knew how I wanted to name him!", he explained and nodded importantly, to underline the point he was making.